


pieces of me

by tuesdead



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Female Sam Winchester, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Injuries, Very Mild Gore, Young Sam Winchester, but a tomboy through and through, like non-existent gore, the memories aren't in any specific order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 12:11:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17100365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdead/pseuds/tuesdead
Summary: Sam Winchester's memories, both good and bad, that take place in a story that I've yet to complete and have not posted.





	pieces of me

**Author's Note:**

> Now, this could be interpreted as w*ncest, but the memories themselves, which this entire work consists of, aren't. I mean, feelings are implied? but that's all?
> 
> the story itself is called [save memory, maybe], a title gifted to me by a friend of mine named Kel. I adore her.

“It’s your fault, you know. If you hadn’t run off, it wouldn’t have happened. Now we have two more people dead and nobody knows how many others injured because you just had to go to school.”

Sam was both angry and heartbroken. Angry won out. “You don’t get to blame shit on me, Dean. It’s not my fault you and Dad don’t know how to do proper research. If you didn’t screw around with every girl wearing a mini skirt within a five mile radius, it might not be a problem.”

“You shut your mouth. You know, just because I didn’t go to college doesn’t mean I’m an idiot.”

“Then don’t act like one.”

“Is that how it’s going to be, Sammy?”

“What the hell do you mean? I just don’t want you to blame everything that goes wrong on me!”

“Well, I’m sorry, but it’s true, Sam. You left. You wanted out and now things are going to shit.”

“Because Dad’s obsessed and you’re distracted by anything that flirts!”

“Whatever, Sam. You don’t want to accept it, fine. But I can’t keep doing this.”

[dial tone]

Sam curled up on her bed, tears pouring. She passed out before she stopped crying.

x

“Sammy, you should go color or something.”

Sam glared at her brother’s back. It wasn’t fair. Bobby was always ready to teach Dean the first thing about cars and to play catch with him when Dad dropped them off. Dean always pushed her away. In to read Bobby’s old books or color in a useless coloring book. Sam wanted to play catch, too. She wanted to run around the junkyard and play with the dogs and be outside like a normal ten year old kid.

“I want to stay out here.”

“You’re going to get hurt.”

Sam rolled her eyes and ran away from both Bobby and Dean, out into the seemingly endless lot of junked cars and scrap metal. She heard Dean shout after her, but she ignored him, running harder until she took a turn too fast and slid on the dry dirt, cutting up the side of her leg. Still, she kept going, finally choosing a hiding spot in the backseat of a Volkswagen Beetle, hunkering down so she wouldn’t be seen from the outside. Her leg was bleeding on the seat but she didn’t care. The pain stung more than burned and Sam had definitely had worse.

Maybe, if she was lucky, they would leave her be.

Alas. She heard Dean getting closer, and she felt guilty for making him worry. He was supposed to be playing catch with Uncle Bobby.

“Sammy, please. Stop hiding!”

She rolled out of the car and climbed onto the roof, facing away from where he was no doubt searching.

“Sam! What the hell did you run off for?!” he called out a few minutes later.

She didn’t answer.

“Sammy, come on.”

“Why didn’t you just stay with Bobby?”

“Because you ran off. If you get hurt, Dad’s going to blame me.”

“No, he’s going to blame me for doing something stupid. He always does.”

“Then maybe you should start listening.”

“If you came out here to lecture me for all my mistakes then you can leave.”

“Sammy, get down from there. Let’s just go back to the house and we can watch a movie or something.”

“You’re supposed to be playing catch with Bobby. Just go, I’m fine.”

“Sam, come on. I said no ‘cause there are only two gloves.”

“Dean, it doesn’t matter. Go on, it’s fine.”

Dean didn’t walk away. “Why won’t you look at me?”

Sam didn’t want to say that she was still upset, so she lied. “I like the view up here.”

“It’s a bunch of trees.”

“So? I like trees, Dean. Go tell Bobby I’m fine. I’m not getting eaten, I didn’t fall in a well. I’m not helpless.”

She heard him sigh, but then he trudged away, kicking rocks as he went. When he was far enough away, Sam twisted her leg to the side and started picking out the gravel. It wasn’t fun, but at least it wasn’t stitches. She never bothered asking to play with Dean and Bobby again, after that. She’d just have to entertain herself.

x

Sam giggled, racing to keep up with her big brother. “Dean! When I get older, will I be cool like you?”

He chuckled, stopping to ruffle her hair. “No way, kiddo. Not unless you grow out of that haircut,” he teased, making her roll her eyes.

“Ha ha. It’s your fault, you’re the one who cut it.”

“Really? In that case, you look super cool!”

Sam huffed, but Dean tugged her onto his back and carried her the rest of the way home. “Don’t worry, Sammy. You’re always gonna be a freak, but I’m a freak too.”

“Thanks De.”

x

“Here, Sammy. This is going to hurt.”

She groaned when her brother poured the whiskey over the cuts on her side, trying to keep her muscles from twitching. “This is definitely not as cool as I used to think it was.”

“I know, kiddo. It’s gonna be okay.”

She choked on a whimper, trying to toughen up. “Can you tell me something, distract me?”

He started talking about their mom and how she doted on Sam before the fire, he told her about her nursery and the days they went on picnics. Sam hadn’t heard much about Mom, so it was nice that Dean was talking about her for once.

Later, cleaned up and in sweats, she crawled onto the bed beside Dean and leaned into his side, hand over her bandages. “Thanks, De,” she said softly, smiling when he wrapped an arm around her.

“No problem, Sammy. Can I ask you something?”

She hummed.

“Why did you jump in front of that spirit?”

Sam closed her eyes. “Because you were trying to light a match, and it was aiming for your neck.”

He squeezed her shoulders. “Sammy,” he muttered. “Don’t take hits for me.”

“You’d do the same for me, Dean. I know that.”

“Well, I’m bigger than you.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re my brother. We watch out for each other. It’s what we do. I’m glad you didn’t get hurt, so there’s no loss.”

x

“Hey, whatcha doin’, kiddo?”

Sam looked up from her book, eyeing the young woman in front of her. “I’m reading about monsters. What’s your name?”

“I’m Jody. Is Bobby home? My car’s got something wrong with it.”

“What happened?” she put the book down, hopping down from the roof of the car she was sitting on. She didn’t know much about cars, since Dean never let her sit in on the lessons, but she did sneak in and eavesdrop when she knew she wouldn’t get caught intruding.

“The, uh, headlights. Kept going out on me last night.”

Sam nodded. “Okay. I’ll go get Uncle Bobby. Do you wanna come in? He makes tea when I’m here, since I can’t drink yet.”

Jody smiled at her. “Sure. What’s your name?”

“Sam Winchester. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jody.” Her side was still stitched, and she winced when she started walking.

“You okay?” Jody asked, looking concerned.

Sam nodded. “I’m good. It’s just a scratch.” She led Jody up to the front door and called out as she pushed it open. “Uncle Bobby, you have a customer! Better put your guns away!”

Bobby turned a corner, shaking his head. “Aren’t you supposed to be studying? Hey, Jody. How can I help you?”

“Uh, the headlights…”

“I think it’s probably a loose connection,” Sam interjected.

“It might be the battery,” Bobby said, almost like he didn’t hear her.

She huffed, heading into the kitchen. Jody followed her. “Is it always like that?”

“You mean, does everyone act like I can’t like cars because I’m a girl? Yeah. I never get to help.” She banged the fridge door shut, pouring a glass of sweet tea for Jody and another for herself. “So what do you do?”

“I’m a cop. I work for the sheriff.”

“Then I should tell you that monsters are real. You won’t believe me now, but one day you will.” Sam sipped her tea. “Do you have a family?”

She nodded. “A husband, and a little boy.”

Sam smiled. “Take care of them. You only get one family.”

x

Sam coughed, flipping the page of an old lore book she had taken to school with her. Everyone had gone home for the holiday, and Sam was stuck in her dorm, sick as a dog, with nothing to do but read a lore book she’d memorized when she was thirteen.

She jumped when she heard something hitting her door, it took a moment to realize it was somebody knocking. “Come in?”

It was Dean. “Sammy?”

“Dean!”

He smiled a little, shutting the door behind himself as he moved to sit beside her, wrapping her in a hug. “You sounded sick over the phone. I wanted to check on you,” he told her,  gentle.

“You know me too well.”

He chuckled. “It’s my job. So I guess you aren’t feeling too great?”

Sam huffed. “No.” She set the book aside, leaning into him. “Dean, thank you.”

He rolled his eyes. “For what?”

“Everything.”

x

Sam was thirteen, barely five-foot-three, and somehow had managed to put herself between Dean and a wendigo in time to get dragged off. If she concentrated—an impossible feat with something like that dragging her through the woods—she could hear her big brother cursing, searching for her. She did her best to leave a trail of blood. With the way her stomach was sliced up, it wasn’t too hard.

It wasn’t a hard decision. Sam might be terrified, but she was fiercely protective over what was hers, and Dean would always be hers. Her big brother, her caretaker, her teacher and protector. And she would do anything for him. Even if it meant dying so that he could kill the bastard that killed her.

So, yes, she had let it take her. She knew Dean would find her. He always had her back.

It was a few hours later that she woke to being shaken, Dean standing in front of her looking panicked. “Dean, hi.”

“Sammy,” he said. His relief was almost palpable. If Sam had her hands free, she would have hugged him. “I’m going to get you out of here, okay Sammy? You’re going to be fine, big brother’s gonna fix you right up, okay?”

She tried for a smile. “I know, De.”

He shook his head, still worried, even if he was pretending not to be. “Sammy…, don’t scare me like that, okay?”

Sam let her eyes slide shut, knowing he’d catch her when he cut her down. “I wasn’t too scared. I knew you’d find me.”

x

Sam didn’t know where Dad was. He’d been gone for a long time. She didn’t even really spare a thought about it, because Dad could take care of himself.

But Dean was bleeding to death. Sam was holding a ripped handkerchief over the massive wound while trying to find their first aid kit, but she didn’t like how shallow he was breathing, or that he kept passing out on the motel bed.

He had stumbled in at half-past midnight, one hand holding his stomach together, the other holding the keys to the Impala. Sam had thrown her covers away, helping him lay down on the bed and here she was, hoping that she would be able to stitch him, but wanting to call 9-1-1.

He had passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow, stirring occasionally, but mostly out.

She managed to close the wounds, hands steady even though her heart was racing and she couldn’t breathe. She refused to make this worse for Dean than it already was. He and Dad had been hunting werewolves, and Sam couldn’t really tell if the injury was from claw or tooth, but she wasn’t going to tie Dean down. If he turned, Sam wasn’t going to be the one to kill him. Not Dean. Anyone but Dean. Sam would rather die, and if he turned, she probably would. She didn’t care, not when Dean looked like this.

She sat vigil at his side the whole night, bringing warm water and pulling his soiled clothes off of him, washing away as much of the blood and dirt that she could until he woke (if he woke) and was able to take himself to the shower. She put him in clean pants but left him without a shirt so she could keep an eye on the bandages over the stitches she had sown him together with.

The wound wasn’t deep enough that Sam had to worry about his internal organs, but it was just deep enough that he might have lost too much blood, in which case they were both screwed until Dad got back. Sam was able to give Dean blood, but while she practiced, she still wasn’t very good at getting the blood from herself to Dean.

The waiting was the worst. She was waiting for Dad to return, for Dean to wake up, to know if he’d been bitten or not, to know if she was going to live if he had. It was kind of poetic, that she was willing to die at the hands of her brother if it meant she didn’t have to live without him.

“Sammy?”

She looked up from her hands, forgetting about the blood crusted under her fingernails. “Dean,” she mumbled, relieved. His voice was hoarse, but that was no surprise. “Hey, I’m going to lift your head up, you need to drink some water, okay?”

He grumbled about it but complied, sipping the water that she put to his lips until she let his head fall back down. “Sammy, is–”

“Dad isn’t back yet. It’s just after dawn, you almost bled to death, and you passed out as soon as you got here.”

“We went after wolves. Why didn’t you tie me down, Sam?”

She didn’t meet his gaze, but put on a smile. “Because I could tell that it wasn’t a bite wound.”

He seemed to believe her, and Sam went about changing the bandages, letting Dean answer the cell phone when it started to ring, meaning Dad was checking on them.


End file.
